Stained Glass Window
by Skye-Chan 12
Summary: Trisha Ester was a normal young girl who was going on vacation through Europe when Fate happens and now she’s a ghost 150 years in the past with a boy-who-will-be-phantom. EricChristen


_Stained Glass Window_

****

**_People are like stained glass windows -- the true beauty can be seen only when there is light from within. The darker the night, the brighter the windows  
--Elizabeth Kubler-Ross _**

Chapter One

Of Goodbyes in the Ester House

* * *

The scene was one of goodbyes, in a small American town, beside a small American house; the Ester family was saying their goodbyes to one of their own, for the youngest of the family, Trisha, was going on her first trip out of the country by herself. The Ester family was known for their travels and each member, when they turned 20, would go on their fist trip by themselves. Trisha was actually not going specifically by herself, but with two friends, of whom her families concerns were mainly based on, but they were smiling and proud of their girl just the same. 

The first goodbyes were made with Granny and Gramps, the elders of the house. They themselves married young (like most in the family) on Gramps trip to India. Granny was a young tourist who had gotten into a slight misunderstanding with several of the natives and fortunately Gramps was able to help her out to distinguish the difference in saying 'good afternoon' and 'may I have your oldest virgin son for supper'.

Gramps smiled like only he could and with a twinkle in his eye, popped a fifty dollar bill into Trisha's jacket pocket and then Granny hugged Trisha and fished the fifty out and pocketed it for herself.

Next goodbyes came between Uncle Dan and Aunt Nelly, Uncle Dan promptly lifted Trisha up and twirled her around, his large belly jiggling as he laughed and pinched her cheeks. Aunt Nelly, tears streaming dramatically down her cheeks, pressed Trisha into her bosom and balled out that her little baby was leaving the nest.

Mom and Dad were the next to say their goodbyes, with mom glaring at Aunt Nelly as if to ask what she meant by 'her' baby. Mom and Aunt Nelly never really did get along due to the fact that they were always trying to out do each other, with their husbands trailing along behind them to clean up the mess they somehow ended themselves in.

Mom was the first of the two to say the goodbye, if you could call it that, as she fussed with her darling daughter's hair and dusted off none existent dust off of her jacket and poked her stomach to make her stand up strait. Dad then took control of the goodbyes and promptly lifted Trisha up into his arms and twirled her around making airplane noises like he use to do when she was little. He then set her down carefully on the ground and promptly clutched his back and began mumbling about how he was too old for these kinds of goodbyes.

John was the next to step up, darling John had always had a soft spot for his littlest sister and the two would often gang up against the middle child in pranks and tricks. He looked down at his little sister and smiled the famous Ester smile and with a stern look ordered his little sis to turn around and cross her arms. At that point he then wrapped his arms around her and hefted her into the air and began jostling her around until her heard at least twenty-five sound pops and snaps all come from her back. Setting her back to the ground they both ignored their mother's looks of helplessness at the state of her daughters hair, now even worse for wear then when she had made her stop at her.

John then leaned over and whispered lightly into Trisha's ear, "Call me when you find a boy you like and wait until I check him out before you make any promises." He ordered. Him being the eldest, he looked at his sister's boyfriends with a look that only a father and a brother could give. John was also the only Ester not to be married at the sound age of twenty-six and wasn't too eager to see his youngest sister to be off on her trip where many of the Esters meet their future spouses.

Trisha then leaned over and whispered back, "We'll I will tell you now, incase I am to late when I get back," she then looked around her as if suspicious that someone maybe listening in before whispering softly into his ear, "That Dona is a fine woman who is madly in love with you and you with her and you have my permission to ask her for her hand, but only her."

John stared blankly ahead of him as if in shock before murmuring back, "I'll keep that in mind."

Mel was the last in the line with Collin standing dutifully beside her. Collin smiled softly and ruffled her already tangled hair, "Have fun sis." before stepping behind his fiancé.

Melanie just looked at Trisha with eyes that looked as if they were trying to find the answer to the meaning off life in the girl standing in front of her. She just stood there for a few moments, arms crossed and eyes squinting before saying, "I believe that you said that on your trip you were going to tour Europe's finest, spit from the top of the Eiffel Tower and all that jazz."

Trisha looked as a child who had gotten caught trying to rob a cookie jar, and knowing Mel, there was probably pictures and DNA evidence to go along with it. "Yah and visit some other… places that may have caught our eye." She tried to sound nonchalant as she gave Mel a sideways glance to see if she had bought it.

Obviously she didn't, judging by the cold stair that she was giving her in response to her negligent answer.

"So then, perhaps you can tell me how I came across this list reading," uh oh, the moment of truth, "Notre Dame's resident hunchback ghost, 221b Baker Street, London, was Sherlock Holms a real resident? Stonehenge? Honestly, why are we letting you go on this trip if you can't be mature about it?" She nearly shouted at her youngest sister.

Trisha plucked the list from Mel's hands and studied it for a moment before her eyes widened with recognition and she smiled, "Good show, dear sister, I had thought I had lost this! Was even about to make up another! Thanks for finding it!" and with that she stuffed the list into her pocket, leaped down the steps to the waiting car and took her seat in the back of the car.

"Goodbye everyone!" She shouted out the window, "I'll be home before you know it!"

And with that the little car chugged down the street to the airport.

Flopping back into the seat Trisha gave a sigh of relief, "Thank god that's over," She murmured as she pried off her coat, glad to be in the warm car, "First stop, Ireland!"

Chapter Two

And the Adventure Begins

* * *

**_Four months later; Paris_**

The sun had set many hours ago, the city was filled with lights, snow danced lightly through the cold night air and Trisha felt the need to be out.

In a small inn, deep with in the inner walls of Paris, the room was dark, all of the lights were out and everyone seemed to be tucked into their beds and fast asleep, except for one of the current residents.

If you listened closely, though I doubt anyone was at the time, you could hear the light sound of stockings brushing against the soft well-used carpet to one of the bedsides.

The current sleeper in that bed was a Markus McCrume, better known as Mark to his friends. Mark was one of those guys that never grew up in the sense that he still refuses to take showers willingly and enjoys making mud pies in the sand and then sticking them in the microwave to see what would happen. Hard to believe that he actually was the oldest in the bunch, having turned twenty-one the previous month.

At the moment Mark was dreaming peacefully and having happy thoughts of returning home the next day, when a gentle blowing on his ear slowly drew him into the world of the Wake. "W'ad ya wan" came his gravely voice, muffled slightly by the blanket that covered the majority of his body.

"Do you wanna go out?" Came the whispered reply.

Mark opened one blurry eye and gazed up at the kneeling form of Trisha in front of him, "Does it look like I wanna go out?" He closed his eye and attempted to role over, "Ask Allie."

Allie was the third member of the party, she was more one of those friends who would be most likely to walk up to a complete stranger grab them and pull them into the most heated kiss that would leave them weak in the knees and unable to speak coherent sentences for the next twenty minutes and then walk away as if nothing had happened.

"Allie's asleep." Trisha whispered back.

"And what am I doing? Meditating?" Mark mumbled as he attempted to squish his face further into the downy pillow and hope that the lack of oxygen would hopefully knock him out and maybe then she would leave him alone.

"Come on Robbie, it's a beautiful night, the moon is full!" Trisha tried to reason.

"More of a reason to stay in, never know what could be lurking on the night of a full moon." Mark muttered.

Trisha pouted for a moment before standing up, "Then I'm going out."

"Fine you go, have fun, tell me about it later." Mark muttered pulling his blanked over his head to block any light that Trisha may attempt to shine on him.

"Fine, it'll just be me… all alone… in the light of the full moon…" There was a dramatic pause with a sigh added for effect, "Wouldn't it be horrible if something happened and I never returned? And you never see me alive again. And there you would be thinking, 'if only I had been there when she asked me—" "—Fine, I'm going, I'm going." Mark muttered darkly under his breath as he tossed the sheets aside and grabbed his clothes that he had thrown to the ground earlier in the hour.

He looked up at Trisha darkly, "You owe me big." He muttered as he tugged on his sneakers.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Trisha sang softly as she gave the unwilling boy a hug.

"Come on, let's go." Mark said as he stood up. Needing no other encouragement, Trisha grabbed Mark's hand and tore open the door and dashed out into the hallway leaving a dazed and blinded by the light of the open door letting in the light from the hallway, Allie blinking dumbly in their wake.

It was only after they were a good couple blocks away from the inn that Trisha realized that she probably should have put on a sweater or jacket or something before she had started running.

Now they were walking down the nearly clear streets of Paris, apparently going no particular direction, and Trisha was starting to see her skin turn colors shades of blue that she didn't even know it could turn.

"Are you cold?" Mark asked as he noticed his friend shivering in her t-shirt.

Taking the comment as one of sarcasm, Trisha chose to ignore him and sped up in her decent down the road.

Walking behind her, Mark peeled off his hoodie jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Slowing she turned and smiled softly before turning away, a rosy tint to her cheeks that made her curse the weather, thought if that was the real reason, I will leave that for you to decide.

"These roads are cool lookin'" Mark commented after they had been walking in silence for a good long while.

Trisha looked at the cobble stone walkway and nodded.

Stopping at the end of the block, Trisha paused and looked around at the empty street free of both people and cars. Grinning, she grabbed a hold of Mark's hand and pulled him into the middle of the plaza shaped square that lay empty of all but snow, before them.

Clutching both of his hands, she looked at the slightly startled boy with a sly grin before she began Spinning.

Now Spinning is the kind of thing that is only done with someone you trust, in the kind of way you let some one push you on the swings or something, for when you Spin with someone both parties must lean back and moved their feet as fast as the other person is and hold on as tight as you can to the other person. For if one parties hand was to slip, or they let go, then both are thrown into the nearest solid object, which is usually the ground a good five feet away.

But another special thing about Spinning, is every thing that you try to look at while spinning is just a blur; except for the person that you are spinning with.

However, Trisha's trust may not have been misplaced, but she put to much faith in Marks dirty fingers, which were currently rather muddy and not the most stable of things to entrust your 'life' with.

After only a few moments of successful spinning, it was abruptly brought to an end when Mark's grip slipped, and they both flew out into the empty snow-covered plaza.

Both laughing to the point of tears, they crawled over to each other and fell down laughing over each other red, mud and snow covered faces.

Helping each other up, Trisha looked around the square and took into notice the large building that appeared to be a church or something.

Its architecture dated maybe somewhere in the early nineteenth-century or so, it looked a little worse for wear, but it did look beautiful in the moon light. "Hey Mark, isn't that just one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen?"

Mark looked up to the gigantic building, "Wow, looks like its an old opera house."

Trisha looked to him confused, "And why would you say that?"

"Because it says, National Academy of Music Opera House." Mark answered sarcastically, causing both of them to go into a round of giggles.

"You know what?" Trisha asked looking to Mark, "This is probably going to be what I look back on and remember out of this whole trip."

"Out of this whole trip?" Mark asked, to which she nodded.

"Well then, better not waist the memory." And with that he lifted her chin and pulled her into a breath taking kiss, or rather a more literal sense of the term, because his arm rather elbowed the breath out of her as he tried to get readjusted into the kiss.

They separated only slightly, noses still touching as they breathed in the cool night air.

"Now can we go back?" Robbie whispered softly.

Somewhere in the whole of Paris a large clock tower began to chime the hour.

Dong.

Dong.

Hitting his arm Trisha scoffed, "Now that is not what a girl wants to hear after her first kiss!"

Dong.

Dong.

"That was your FIRST kiss?" Mark cried, drawling out the word 'first' for effect.

Dong.

Dong.

"Maybe," Trish said with a thoughtful look before pulling away and racing down the road in the direction of the opera house, calling out, "maybe not, the world may never know, for Trisha Marie Moira Harper-Easter knows how to keep her secrets!"

Dong.

Dong.

Grinning Robbie gave chase, "Well Miss Harper-Ester, perhaps you just haven't found the right man to trust you secrets to!"

Dong.

Dong.

"Maybe… But the world may never know!" And with that she turned and gave Mark the famous Ester smile and fell… or rather the ground did.

For some odd reason and on a twist of coincidence and serendipity, on the twelfth stroke of midnight, Trisha Ester stepped directly on the one weak stone of the whole coble stone street, which under lay nothing but a dark empty abyss. And on that twelfth stroke, when Trisha stepped on said weak stone, the stone collapsed, taking one Trisha Easter along with it into the darkness that was below.

Chapter Three

Erik

* * *

Trisha woke to the sound of the steady dripping of water. Hissing in pain, she brought her hand up to feel a nonexistent bruise that was causing her head to ache with such throbbing pain. She opened her eyes to find herself lying on her back staring up at a large cavern. 

Water seemed to be everywhere and the first thing on her mind was she was going to kill Mark when she found him. She didn't know how, but some how all this had to be his fault.

Sitting up she looked to her surroundings once more and found herself to be on a stone beach of sorts, water was lapping at her toes, and the cavern that she found herself in was vast and empty to say the least.

Stretching all of her muscles carefully to check if anything was broken, she decided that besides a throbbing headache, she was none to worse for ware. Standing up she looked around for any exits and found her only escape was to be through the water and through the tunnels that seemed to be carved for its water ways.

There was little light through out the room and what there was, seemed to be coming from her general area. Deciding to investigate the light first, she looked up, to the ceiling and found no channels from the ceiling that could be bringing the light to her, and then to the floor which, didn't appear to be making any light for itself. However when she stretched her arm out away from her body, her only conclusion was that the light seemed to be coming from her. After that conclusion, she abruptly sat back down decided that she must have had a concussion and that it was best to lay down, shut up and try to sleep.

How long she lay there she didn't know, but she couldn't find it in herself to fall asleep. Five minutes of unsuccessful attempts left her on her last nerve and was about to throw her head into the rock floor and hope for minimal damage and a bit of sleep, when she heard a soft splashing.

Speaking out loud to herself she muttered, "Either a rat or a person, give or take." Looking around the room quickly she decided that she had nothing better to do, and investigating seemed like the next best thing, so with that thought she carefully entered the water.

Luckily the water only came up to about her chest and she managed to wade through the water relatively easily, though she was cautious and ready to squeak/scream if anything were to rub against her leg in the waters murky depths below.

She headed towards where she thought she had heard the sound, but it wasn't long before she came to a dead end. A small landing was all that was there, and the dark smooth walls, smooth from years of water splashing and running across its rough edges until they were worn smooth.

Climbing up the landing, Trisha gave a sigh of defeat as she collapse down, wet and smelling worse then when they had hitchhiked through Scotland.

She sat there alone in the dark for some time, until through the darkness; she could hear the soft sounds of… something.

Taking a deep breath, she plunged back into the water and headed to where she heard the noise, stopping every so often to pinpoint the sound once more.

It was when she finally came upon a tunnel that led to the vast underground lake that she found the source of the noise. It was crying, soft crying that echoed through the vast underground lake.

Walking onto the cold stone beach, Trisha approached the figure that lay weeping before her.

The figure wore ragged clothes, torn and covered in.. Well lets just say Trisha really did not care to find out what exactly they were covered in. But over his head, a large gunny sack bag was tied, leaving only two small holes poked through to see out of.

"Are you alright?" Trisha asked softly as she kneeled down beside the boy who looked only to be a few years younger then herself.

The boy flinched and sat up, scooting away from her as he looked upon her with unblinking eyes.

"It's alright," She soothed in a calming voice as she raised her hands in a sign of peace, "I'm not going to hurt you."

The boy relaxed only slightly, but his arms and legs were still tense, ready to spring up and run given the slight incentive.

"What's your name?" She asked kindly, smiling softly and invitingly at the boy, "My name is Trisha."

The boy just sat and stared at her.

"Comment vous appelez-vous (what is your name)?" She tried again in French as she tried to look into his eyes for some sign of recognition.

"Erik." Came the soft response, so quiet that one could have mistaken it for a sigh, not a response at all.

"Bonjour, Erik." Trisha said softly, smiling caringly at the boy "Comment allez-vous (How are you)?"

"Je vais bien (I am fine)." he whispered.

"Tu as habité ici (do you live here)?" Trisha asked looking around the room, it was not likely that he did, but he was the only one that she had seen anywhere around the mysterious lake.

"Non… Oui… (no… yes…)" came the response.

"Ok… ah, Mon nom est Trisha. (my name is Trisha)" She introduced herself again, "je il viendra emmener s'occuper de vous. (I will take care of you)" She held out her hand as an offering and beckoned him to her.

(_A/N Sorry but the last phrase was no where near accurate and because of my shaming of the French language, the rest will be written in English, but we'll just say that it's French.) _

He looked at her for a moment and slowly scooted to her side and took her hand softly as if afraid of breaking it.

She patted her lap and gently pushed him into a laying position. As he began to relax slightly she managed to get his head maneuvered so it was lying on her lap. In only a few moments after that his soft breathing was the only proof that she needed to tell her that he was fast asleep.

Trisha just sat at a loss for what to do for a very long time. The tunnel that he seemed to have come from went a ways up and she very much would have liked to find out where she currently was and why Mark hadn't come and gotten her yet. And the only thing that was stopping her was this boy. He was so scared and abused, and she wanted to help, she said she would help.

His back was bare and was covered with welts and deep bruises, telling of a long terrible life that he had lived through. She took off Marks coat from her shoulders and gently placed it over his bare back, hardly noticing the fact that it to, like herself, glistened with a faint glow until the moment that she released it from her grasp.

For fear of worse injuries hiding under the burlap bag, she decided to uncover his head, which he seemed so intent on hiding. Taking the hem of the bag, she carefully stretched it out and attempted to slide it over his head with out waking him. She managed to uncover the half of his face, but decided to not risk pulling it out from under his head for risk that it may wake him up. She then took the moment to study his face, and what she saw nearly made her cry.

The sack had served its purpose, which was to hide the scared and deformed markings that covered half of his face. Her heart went out to the poor boy, who was probably down here to hide from the tormenting of the people who had beaten him so badly, for something that wasn't even his fault. Her hand danced lightly over the swollen tissue of his face, taking all of it in, her pity and protectiveness for this boy growing greater by the second.

As she pulled her hand away, her bracelet, a beautiful thing, she had bought it at a bazaar in Egypt when she was eight, and while its beautiful silver design was stunning, its clasp was less then marvelous and it was always coming unclipped and the most inopportune times. It seemed that this was going to be one of those times, and Trisha watched with wide eyes as the bracelet slipped from her wrist and with a soft clatter, it fell to the stone floor only millimeters from Erik's head.

The boys eyes snapped open and like a cat, he sprang from his relaxed position to the wall near by and looked around with wild scared, amber eyes that glinted with fear.

"It's alright, shush now, don't be scared." Trisha cried softly as she looked deeply into the boy's eyes trying to sent the sincerity in her words to him.

The boys hand flew to his face and his eyes fell on the burlap bag that was still lying on her lap. He lunged forward in a mad dash to grab the bag, but Trisha, reading his actions managed to grasp his wrist before it reached its target. He looked up and into her eyes for the first time, fear of rejection and pain that could come shown through his eyes. But they only met sincerity, kindness, pity and caring.

Reaching up, she pulled lightly on his wrist that still covered his face, "You do not need to fear me." She whispered urgently as she pulled his arm away gently and looked into both of his amber eyes, "I will make sure no one hurts you."

Erik's fear evaporated and was replaced with something else, hope. "Promise?" He whispered softly, his gaze never leaving hers.

"I promise and swear on my honor as an Ester that I will never let a single soul harm you." She said this oath with such fierceness and sincerity that Erik didn't know what to say or do. He just froze, knees locked in place and eyes hardly daring to blink.

Smiling, she pulled the boy into a hug. Erik tensed the moment that she made contact with him, but soon relaxed and with out really knowing what he was doing, his arms wrapped around her, and he to was hugging her.

Sniffing, as she pulled away, and Trisha discovered her cheeks wet with tears. Dabbing them lightly with the side of her thumb she sniffed loudly. "God, I don't know why I'm crying." She murmured softly as she tried to stop the onslaught of tears. Softly, a hand pressed to her cheek, Trisha nearly jumped as she felt Erik's hand brush softly against her cheek and wipe away some of the salty tears. Pulling her own hands away she looked at Erik and saw that he seemed in awe as he gently wiped each tear away.

"No one," His voice whispered softly as he pulled his hand away, tears of his own now falling down his cheeks. "has ever cried for me."

Trisha looked up at the ceiling in a desperate attempt to stop the next onslaught of tears, "Oh, God and here they come again." and before he could do anything, she swept him into another gigantic hug.

Minutes later found both of them leaning existed, both mentally and physically, against the large stone carved wall.

"Well now." Trisha breathed out a sigh before turning to Erik, "you wouldn't happen to know what lies above us, now would you?"

Erik shook his head, "I only saw a large building before the girl pushed me in here, there wasn't much time."

Trisha nodded, but Erik continued as if he hadn't seen, "The crowd was so close behind us, the entire time it felt like they were right behind us... Right behind us..."

Trisha studied his blank face waiting for him to continue, but he didn't. "Who was behind you?"

His turned to her voice, eyes still reliving the memory that was so fresh, "The gypsies, they were all shouting... Murderer they all shouted, after the devil's child, after the murderer."

His eyes came back into focus and he looked to Trisha with wide eyes, "I am a murderer, I killed him, I strung the rope around his fat neck and pulled as hard as I could, and then the girl, the girl with the sad eyes, she opened the bars and led me out, she pushed me through the grate and down the corridor and through the door and all she said was run. And I ran."

In her mind the horror story that the poor boy had lived through ran through her head. With a fresh set of tears leaking down her cheeks she leaned over and enveloped the boy into another hug.

"I am a murderer." was all he whispered, not responding to the comfort the hug offered.

"NO." Trisha's voice shook with such emotion, "You are NOT a murderer. You were only protecting yourself, taking a life is only justified if it is self-defense, which it was. You had the right to do that to that man after all that he had done to you. You are not a murderer, ok, alright? Do you understand? You did nothing to deserve what he did to you."

She pulled away slightly and looked into Erik's eyes, "Now say it with me, ok? Say I am not a murderer."

Erik's soft voice echoed with hers as her salty tear fell shimmering down her face, "I am not a murderer."

Chapter Four

The Opera House

* * *

Creeping slowly up the stairs, Trisha climbed the large spiraling staircase, Erik's hand being held in her own as they walked. The boy's skinny frame being dwarfed by Mark's hoodie that hung loosely from his shoulders. 

Looking up, she saw that they were nearly to the top, glad that nobody was on the staircase as well, Trisha was hoping that the building above them was the closed down Opera house that she had seen with Mark before she had fallen. It would be much easier to come out of an old abandon building then try to explain to an angry owner how she and Erik had gotten into the building to begin with, especially Erik.

Coming to a large oak door, Trisha looked to Erik to make sure that he wasn't going to get wrapped up into his memories again. He gave her an encouraging look to which she nodded and both of them placed their hands on the door, and pushed.

CREEEEEEKKKK

Both of them froze. Apparently, this door wasn't used that often. Listening for any signs of anyone on the outside hearing the creek, and hearing none, they both pushed again, this time ignoring the loud protests that the door made and managed to shove the door open enough to squeeze through.

Leaving the door ajar behind them, they found themselves at the end of a long hallway which lead to more doors. If anyone had heard them, they obviously weren't paying the noise any mind.

Erik then took control and lead Trisha down the hallway to a ledge which had a Trent in it to catch drain water that came from a bared grate that showed the street above.

"And that is where I came out." Erik murmured softly as he looked at the grate with such a look that Trisha almost let in to give the boy another hug, but she managed to restrain herself to a comforting hand on the shoulder which brought his gaze back to her.

"Ready to see where in the hell we are?" Trisha asked with a smile attempting to lighten the mood, which apparently it did, because Erik smiled and nodded.

The hallway that they were in was fashioned to be a chapel of sorts, Catholic by the look of it. There were candles with small pictures underneath and murals displaying different passages from the bible.

Walking and occasionally peeking into some of the rooms they came to a staircase leading up. Taking it they found themselves at a door and upon opening that, they came across their first illuminated hallway, but it was lit with candles and torches on the walls and handing from the ceiling, which puzzled Trisha, but she chose to ignore her nagging feeling that something was up. Most old buildings were wired with electricity, but maybe they wanted to keep the authenticity of the building or something, her mind concluded and she continued on.

Here's a little advice, don't ignore that nagging feeling, you always find that it means something and you would have wished that you had trusted it sooner.

Erik was starting to feel rather nervous by now, he was in an unknown hallway, in an unknown place without anything to cover his face. and that thought was really starting to eat at him the further away they traveled from his dark, lake haven.

Looking down the hallway, Trisha turned to Erik and asked, "Do you want to find a main floor, or investigate the rooms?"

"Main floor." Erik answered relieved that there would be less chance now of being discovered by whatever was inside those rooms.

Nodding, Trisha led him through the hallway and up a flight of stairs and through another hallway. Now this hallway was the most fantastic, because it was filled with everything imaginable; costumes of every shape and size, masks of every sort, props of everything imaginable from books to an elephant (not _live_ of course); it was all in that hallway. Then they came to The Curtain.

There were actually several curtains of many different colors from black to red, and in many different materials, from thick velvety ones to thin cotton ones.

When they managed to find their way through the curtains, there was a sight to behold. The room was absolutely the most beautiful room Trisha had ever seen. The walls were made up of giant golden statues of heavenly figures; the seats were velvety red, all perfectly maintained and looking almost new. And the Chandelier, O-God the Chandelier! In the darkness they were hardly able to see it property to even to judge it in its full worth, but what they could see was absolutely breathtaking. Each of the beads shone like stars in the dim light.

"Wow." Was all that Trisha could say and a nod was all that Erik could give as a response.

Then, a thought ran through Trisha's head, 'nothing in all of Paris could possibly look anything like this.' this was suppose to be an 'OLD' opera house and here it was looking like it was made with in the last five years. Everything was too maintained and... Beautiful, for it to be the same run down opera house that her and Mark were looking at that very same evening. Or... at least she was pretty sure that it had been that evening.

"Um.. Erik," She started and looked the boy, still very much at awe at their surroundings, "you wouldn't happen to know the date would you? The month... year... anything?" The boy shook his head, "thought not..."

Trisha sighed and looked around the room for anything that may inform her of the date. Then something caught her eye. It was one of those programs that you are given at the beginning of a play, or opera as the case probably was for this specific program. It was lying on the edge of the stage, near the orchestra pit. It seemed to have been left there for a purpose. Perhaps fate left it there for Trisha to find it, if you believe in that sort of thing or not. But for what ever reason it was there.

Walking forward, Trisha bent down and picked it up. It was for Giocomo Meyerbeer's Les Huguenots, Trisha remembered hearing something about a movie or something with the opera Les Huguenotssome some time ago, but that was not what she was thinking of at that moment, but of the date which read; November the 16th of the year 1850. The paper was crisp and new as if it had been printed only the day before.

"Dear lord." She swore lightly under her breath. Looking to the paper she then took notice of the fact that it was now glowing with that eerie glow that she herself had noticed the same quality about herself earlier that night and had choked up to the underground lake setting. Releasing the paper she watched as the glow disappeared and it float to the floor.

Kneeling down she studied the paper, which had landed face up upon the stage. Reaching down, she picked it up once more. It glowed. She dropped it, it stopped glowing, she picked it up, it glowed, she dropped it, it stopped glowing.

"Dear lord and god in heaven, I'm dead." and with that she flopped backwards onto the stage and stared dazed up at the glittering chandelier above.

"Trisha?" Trisha looked to her left and saw a wide eyed Erik looking down at her, "Are you ok?"

"No... Not really." she murmured looking at him, her gaze still clouded as if she wasn't really looking at him at all, but looking through him at something else, "I think I died."

Erik looked at her with concern all over his face, "Are you alright?"

"Apparently... But how can I be in 1850... People don't just travel a hundred and fifty years back when ever they die… At least I don't think they do... Maybe this is all a dream?" She contemplated her thoughts out loud, and then shook her head in despair, "I could never imagine such beauty that is in this Opera house in a dream. Maybe I'm in a coma or something, you always hear strange things about what happens to peoples subconscious when they are in comas..."

Erik was looking quite unsure of himself and starting to feel rather disturbed by all that she was saying.

Trisha's eyes slowly came back into focus and she looked at Erik, "Well... How things are is how things are, and there seems to be very little that I can do about them."

Erik just nodded along for hope that it would make her feel better. "Now... What were we doing?" Trisha asked aloud as she looked about the room once more, "Ah, yes we were exploring weren't we?"

Erik nodded. Climbing up from her laying position, Trisha then helped the still kneeling Erik to his feet and asked, "So... Which direction now?"

Looking around the room wearily Erik pointed to the direction that they had just come from.

"Ready to pack it in for the night?" Erik nodded, though he probably didn't understand the context of her words only the way that she said them, that said are you ready to go back, and he was more then ready.

Taking his hand once more, Trisha lead him through the hallways and down the stairs to the door that read 'chapel' and then back to the large oaken door, still wedged open. After both of them stepped through, they closed the door and wandered back down to the beach that lay below. Taking a seat against the wall, Trisha pulled Erik down and lay his head to rest on her lap.

Minutes later, he was fast asleep. But Trisha lay awake; her mind wandering of thoughts of how she could have ended up in the state that she was in.

Chapter Five

Making a Home

* * *

Trisha was brought out of her thoughts by the loud growling of the sleeping Erik's stomach. Smiling softly, she shook the boy awake lightly. Erik's eyes fluttered open and with a yawn he sat up and stretched. 

"Good morning dear Erik." Trisha greeted, "I do believe that you stomach is demanding food."

As if on queue, his stomach gave another angry growl, causing Erik to blush a pretty pink.

"Come on now, lets go see what they have in this opera house for food." Taking to her feet, Trisha pulled Erik up and they both started the long trek up to the opera house.

"Trisha?" Trisha turned to Erik, who was now stopped on the stair that he was on looking anywhere but at her, "Yesterday... on the stage... you, well, you said that..."

"I was dead?" Trisha finished for him softly. Erik gulped visibly and nodded his head.

"Are you really?" he looked up at her for the first time, his eyes wide with nervousness and curiosity which was just coming out of him after a long absence of having it beaten from him.

"I don't know really, I was thinking about it and the coolest answer I could come up with was that I fell and when I fell I must have landed hard and fallen into a coma. I read an article once about how experiments were done on where a person's subconscious goes when they fall into a coma and I think that mine was jolted back here when I fell."

Erik just looked more confused then before.

Trisha sighed, "Look at it this way... My body is asleep, but my mind is here projecting me, for you to see."

"So could you change what your mind projects?" Erik asked, seeming fascinated with the idea.

"Sure, I suppose that would make sense..." Trisha answered rather unsure of herself.

Erik then looked at her like a child looks at Santa, "Well... Aren't you going to change?"

"Who should I change into?" She asked sitting down on one of the steps.

Erik paused and looked thoughtful for a moment before announcing his verdict, "Me!"

"Alright then..." Trisha rubbed her hands together and closed her eyes.

"What are you doing?" Whispered Erik.

Peeking one eye open, Trisha looked at him, "Trying to concentrate, now shush."

Erik nodded and watched with wide anticipating eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Trisha concentrated as best she could on only one thing. Erik. Going over in her mind what his face looked like, what his hair looked like, every detail that she had witnessed. When she was done she didn't feel any different.

She opened her eyes and looked at Erik expectantly. "Well... Did it work?"

The look on Erik's face was one of amazement as he nodded his head slowly up and down.

Looking down at her luminescent hand, she saw to her astonishment that it was not her hand, or it was (depending on how you look at it, it was her hand in the sense that she could move it, but it wasn't the hand that she was born with rather.)

Looking down at her body, she saw to her astonishment that she was now flat chested, grubby pant wearing boy, at least as far as she could see. "Now this is the freakiest thing... ever..." She murmured as she lightly felt her face, to find it was not her face really at all, but Erik's

Closing her eyes again, she cleared her mind and when she opened her eyes once more, she was back to being herself.

A low grumbling came once again from Erik's stomach making Trisha smile, "Your stomach seems to think we're on the wrong track, are ya ready to find some food?" Erik nodded.

However when Trisha went to stand, she found that she could hardly make her legs move at all. It was like her body (if you could call it that) was totally drained and not going to move, but her mind was as fresh and with out feelings of fatigue at all. Exhaling sharply, she looked up at Erik in surprise, "Well.. I suppose that took a lot out of me."

"We can wait for a while longer, until you recover." Erik murmured sympathetically.

"Thanks." Trisha exhaled as she attempted to settle back down into a comfortable position as one could without being able to move a muscle hardly at all.

They sat in silence for only a moment before Erik asked, "Are you a ghost or an angel?"

Trisha smiled and murmured softly, "No, I am no angel. I am only human, or was rather. I suppose that I could be called a ghost."

Erik nodded and looked deep in thought before asking, "Ghosts can go float and go through walls, can you?"

Trisha sighed, "Honestly, Erik I don't know. I only awoke rather, only a few moments before I found you."

Erik nodded lightly and looked down at his hands.

Looking at the dejected boy, Trisha said, "But once we find you some food, maybe we can experiment and see what this body can do. But if you're ready to leave, I think that I can manage to stand."

Leaning forward, Erik helped her to her feet and they began once again their descent upon the stairs.


End file.
